


Aural Fixation

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Butt Plugs, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some good, old-fashioned phone sex.  Followed by bonus ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aural Fixation

“ _Zach_.”

Not like he wouldn’t know from the late hour or the length of time since Chris’ last call, but the tone of his lover’s voice tells Zach everything he needs to know.

“I don’t hear from you for three days and then you call me in the middle of the night begging for it.”  Zach switches off the TV and leaves the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, vaulting over the back of the couch and making a beeline for the bedroom.  That’s where the good lube is, anyway.

“I’m sorry – no time.  But I _need_ this.”

“I know you do, baby,” Zach murmurs as he pulls his Bluetooth headset off the charger.  He never used it until Chris left for Pittsburgh, but honestly, it’s the best thing to happen to phone sex since 3-way calling.  Naturally, Chris has one, too.  He quickly fits the earpiece in and stretches out on the bed.  “Tell me you didn’t start without me.”

“No,” Chris sighs, “but I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

The corner of Zach’s mouth quirks up even though he knows Chris can’t see him.  “Well, we can’t have that.  Lose the pants.”

The sound of a lowering zipper and an ensuing moan of relief.  Zach does the same, shoving his pants and underwear to his knees, and then placing his hands flat on the bed.  It’s a little game he plays, to see how long he can go without touching himself.  If Chris hasn’t got a hand on his cock yet, it’s only fair that Zach obey the same rules.

“Do you want to be full tonight?” Zach asks, and gets a hasty _fuck, yes_.  “Go get your plug then.”

He can hear Chris rifling through his bag.  “Which one?”

Zach’s smirk becomes a full-on smile – there’s already a breathy quality to Chris’ voice.  “You pick.”

“The glass one.” 

“Perfect,” Zach hums.  It’s not the thickest or longest in their collection, but it’s smooth and heavy and it warms to the heat of his body so nicely.  “Have you found it?”

“Yes.  And the lube.”

“Good.  Go kneel at the head of the bed.  Is there a headboard you can hold onto?”

“Yes,” Chris breathes, springs squeaking slightly as he climbs on to the bed.

“Get your fingers nice and slick for me,” says Zach, shifting his hips up though he knows there’s only air to meet him.  His own cock is swelling quickly in anticipation.  “Spread your knees and touch your hole.  No fingers in yet, just tease yourself.”

“O-okay,” Chris stammers, his breath hitching, and Zach shuts his eyes to imagine the scene: the room lit only by the bedside lamp, the ugly bedspread rumpled under Chris’ knees.  Chris is gripping the headboard with one hand for balance while the other dips back behind his balls to brush his perineum, fingertips flicking tantalizingly around the tight pucker of his entrance.  His eyes are pinching tighter with every passing second, the need for more stimulation growing stronger and stronger.

The sigh he heaves when Zach says “One finger, slowly,” is heavy and sweet and makes Zach’s cock twitch in sympathy.  He lets one hand wander idly under his shirt, fingertips brushing a hardened nipple in time with Chris’ short puffs of breath.

It’s not enough for long, though, and when Chris blurts out “More?” Zach can almost see the flush rising in his cheeks at the tinge of desperation in his request.

But Zach is feeling generous and grunts an assent, loving the obscene, wet sound of Chris fucking himself on two fingers.  The tension around Chris’ eyes will relax now, but a new tightness will settle into his abs, his lower back as his body responds to the preparation.  “Now scissor them a little – open yourself up.  God, yeah, I can almost see the look on your face.  Love how hard you concentrate when you’re fucking yourself.  You need another finger?”

“No!” Chris moans, a little too loudly.

“Okay,” Zach says, languidly licking his lips.  “But get the plug wet first.  Can’t have you hurting yourself.”  There’s a frustrated silence as Chris gets more lube and repositions himself.   “Tell me.”

“It’s— _oh_ … I kept it in my hand, so it’s warm now.  I’ve got just the tip in, and I’m pushing in a little.  It feels big, Zach, not as big as your cock, but…”

Chris trails off with a little sob, and Zach has to stop his own hand from reaching for his cock as he imagines Chris’ tight hole stretching around the clear glass of the plug.  “Use your wrist, baby,” he groans.  “Work it in a little at a time.”

“I am, I am, it’s just so—”  A choked little moan, and Zach’s fingers dig into the skin of his own hip for some kind of paltry physical stimulation as his cock twitches hard against his belly.

“Jesus, Chris, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?  Those desperate little sounds you’re making.  I’m already so hard, _fuck_ , my dick is aching to be touched.”  A resonant, satisfied groan through the phone line means the plug is all the way in, clutched firmly in the tight heat of Chris’ body.  “Wish it were me inside you.”

“Me too, oh god, me too,” Chris moans, and Zach imagines his white-knuckled grip on the headboard, clenching greedily at the plug with his inner muscles while he waits for Zach to tell him what to do next. 

Finally, he takes pity on both of them and says, “Touch yourself now,” his own groan of relief coming a bare split second after Chris’ as Zach wraps a hand around himself.  The friction is a little too dry now that he’s this hard, so while he reaches for the lube he tells Chris, “Talk to me.  Tell me what you’d want from me if I were there.”

“Your mouth,” Chris replies without missing a beat.  “Your amazing mouth, all over me.  Sucking and nibbling at my neck.  Teasing my nipples.   Biting my hipbones.  Hot, wet kisses on my stomach.”

“Fuck, yeah, love teasing you,” Zach growls, keeping the motion of his now-slick hand as slow as he can stand.

“Then sucking my cock.  God, you’re a fucking genius at it.  Your hot tongue flicking over the head, your soft mouth tightening around me.”

“I’d let you fuck my mouth,” Zach says, low and devious, smirking at the high whimper he gets in return.  “As hard and deep as you want.”

“As long as you fuck me after,” Chris gasps, and it’s Zach’s turn to let out an embarrassingly needy whine, his hips thrusting up into his grip.

“How close are you?” asks Zach, knowing he can’t be far behind.

“So close.  Shit, Zach, I’m so fucking close.”

“Take your hand away,” Zach groans.

“ _What_?”

“I’ll do it, too.  Just take your hand off your cock… _now_.”  Zach hears a cry of near-agony on the other end of the line as he ruthlessly clamps his fingers around the base of his own cock, his impending climax receding.  Chris can’t come without being touched and Zach imagines that the headboard is close to splintering under the younger man’s grip. 

“Hang on, Chris,” Zach breathes, fisting his hands in the sheets.  “You’re doing so well.”

“Why?” Chris whimpers.

“Didn’t want it to be over so fast.  I’ll make it up to you, baby, I swear.  It’ll be so good.”

They both pant helplessly for a few long moments, getting themselves under control.  “You okay?” Zach asks.

“No, you bastard,” Chris growls, and Zach has to laugh.

“Just trust me.  Start again, slowly, and I’ll tell you exactly how I want to fuck you.”  Chris’ answering moan lets Zach know he’s on his way to being forgiven.  Zach makes a circle out of his thumb and forefinger and tightens it just under the head of his cock, stroking down with maddening slowness and pressure as his hips push up.  Licking his lips again, he continues, “No dicking around – I want you on your back at the edge of the bed, legs up in the air.  That way, I can watch you fall apart when I push into you.”

“Yeah,” Chris breathes.  “Fucking _do_ it.”

“You’ll have no control at all, just have to take what I give you and beg if you want more.”  Zach shuts his eyes and tips his head back, his hips doing most of the work now as he thrusts up into his tight grip that’s good but nothing like the intoxicating heat of Chris’ body.  He can’t talk dirty like this when he’s got the real thing around him, under him, against him – can barely talk at all. 

Even the mental image of Chris’ face – eyes wide, mouth open and panting, jaw working but no sound coming out – is sabotaging Zach’s control.  Not to mention the flex of his arm as he jerks himself, hips moving and ass clenching around the plug as the tip grazes his prostate with teasing pressure.  “Gonna pound into you, Chris, so deep, remind you who you belong to.  Leave bruises on your hips, your ass.”

Chris moans Zach’s name and the older man has to slow his pace to be able to keep talking.  “So fucking beautiful when you’re taking my cock.  Legs pulling me closer like you can’t get enough.  God, yeah, the first chance I get, I’m gonna make you scream my name, make you come so hard and so long you’ll feel it for days.  You ready to come, baby?”

“ _Please_ ,” Chris sobs, “Can’t stop it this time.”

“Then do it.  Let go.”  Zach feels his toes start to curl, his whole body start to draw up and when Chris keens his release across the two thousand miles that separate them, Zach sends it right back, gasping Chris’ name as he careens over the edge.

“Ah, fuck,” Chris chuckles breathlessly, setting off a final involuntary jerk of Zach’s hips.  “That _was_ good.  Hate it when you’re right.”

“Thought you’d have learned to cope by now,” Zach pants, “since you’ve had so many opportunities.”

“Of you being right?”

“Yeah.”

“Jerk.”

“Moron.  God, we’re both so articulate after sex. ”

They both fall silent then, and Zach listens to Chris’ breath slow and even out… too even.  “Chris!” he snaps, laughing at the ensuing snort from the other end of the phone line.  “Were you falling asleep on me?”

“No!  Maybe!  A little!  Fuck, I was on set for sixteen hours today.  I would love nothing more than to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, but it’s just not the same with a headset and a hotel pillow.”

“Did you at least remember to move the mint first?”

“I would if this place were classy enough for mints.  Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so tired.  I might have some free time tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sounds good.  I think the hilarious tale of Harold, the FedEx guy, and one live and very pissed-off lobster can wait until then.  How much longer?”

“Ten days,” Chris sighs.  “And clear your schedule, because when I get back, the first thing I’m gonna do… well, okay, first I’ll go home and sleep for about fourteen hours straight.  But _then_ I’m going over to your place and we’re not gonna leave your bedroom for a week.”

“Good,” Zach laughs.  “I should be able to have the lobster out of there by then.”

Chris mumbles something that’s rendered indistinct by the pillow into which his face is undoubtedly pressed.  Zach waits for the click of disconnection, but instead gets Chris’ rattling snores assaulting his eardrums.  He only hesitates for a second before switching his ear piece off.  Just a second, is all.

 

 **Bonus Ficlet -- Of Cats and Crustaceans**

“So, uh, I figured while you were gone, I might as well rent Julie & Julia and not have to hear you bitch about it…”

“Goddamnit, Zach, you tried to cook, didn’t you?”

“Just shut up and let me tell it. I’m at the grocery store the next day, and the live lobsters are looking particularly… juicy? So I figure, what the fuck.”

“Jesus, you couldn’t start with something easy like beef bourbon-whatever?”

“Bourguignon. And there might have been some cooking sherry involved in the decision. Anyway, I pick the meanest-looking fucker in the tank, ‘cause I’m gonna have to kill it, right? Well, I get it home no problem, get it in the pot, I’m getting the big knife out to Sylar its little crustacean cranium, when the doorbell rings.”

“The FedEx guy?”

“The FedEx guy. I’m signing for the thing when all of a sudden I hear this noise. Like, I can’t even begin to replicate it. It was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and then were silenced – by faceplanting onto the kitchen floor.”

“Tell me it wasn’t—”

“Harold? Of course it was Harold. Little bastard got curious, decided to poke his head in the pot just about the time the lobster managed to free itself from its rubber restraints. Got him right in the nose, too. So of course the cat flipped over the pot and the lobster got loose. Those sons of bitches are faster on land than you’d think.”

“Oh, shit.”

“No kidding. So I check to make sure Harold’s not missing an eye or something when the dog lets out an unholy howl and comes bounding out of the bedroom.”

“It got Noah, too?”

“Fuck no. You think that coward went anywhere near the lobster? Anyway, so I’m headed to the bedroom when the FedEx guy comes in because I’m still holding the electronic signature thingy and he wants it back. But the way I figure it, this is a two-man job, so I tell him he can have it back if he helps me, uh, recapture the fugitive.”

“That poor, poor man.”

“Hey, I think he liked the break in his routine. So I get a broom and give him the pot and we go in my bedroom, and wouldn’t you know it, the lobster scurries right under the bed.”

“Those things have survived millions of years of evolution – they’ve got to have some serious survival instincts.”

“Which I wish the cookbook would have mentioned, _Christopher_ , but those things are surprisingly light on biological context. So I told FedEx Guy that I would poke the lobster over to his side of the bed with the broom and he could clamp the pot over it, and he said, and this is a direct quote, ‘No fuckin’ way am I gonna be on the pointy end of that thing when it comes out.’”

“Uh… that’s what she said?”

“Nobody makes that joke anymore.”

“What are you talking about? It’s a classic! I hear it all the time!”

“Yeah, in your head.”

“So: lobster under the bed, FedEx guy with the pot.”

“Right, so we switch so I’m holding the pot and he has the broom, and he pokes the stupid lobster, which shoots out toward me and I clamp the pot down over it. You should have seen me – no girly screams or anything. You’d have been proud.”

“I’m moved to tears here. I really am.”

“So the FedEx guy takes the electronic thingy and leaves, and just then Noah trots up, all ‘Hey, what did I miss?’”

“Nice. Did the wayward lobster taste good, at least?”

“Errr… I didn’t eat him.”

“What? After all that shit he gave you?”

“Well, he was a spirited little bastard. Way I see it, he earned his freedom. So I drove to the beach, went down to the water, and let him go.”

“You do realize that lobsters don’t live off the California coast and he’s probably dead already, right?”

“ _Oh my god_ , Chris, can’t you just let me have this one thing?”

“Fine. William Clawace the Lobster will live a rich and full life, finding happiness with the mate of his choosing and their descendents will populate the waters of California until no one can dip a toe in the ocean without being pinched. Happy?”

“Thank you.”

“Is that the end?”

“That’s the end. Harold’s got a little scab on his nose, but he’ll heal. And the bedroom is currently crustacean-free.”

“I’m actually more concerned about the FedEx guy being in the bedroom.”

"Worst. Porno. Ever."


End file.
